TV Style
by Navygirl
Summary: Surprises all around
1. Default Chapter

Title:  TV Style  
Author: Navygirl  
Rating:  PG-13  
Classification: Harm/Mac  
Spoiler:  Capital Crime  
Summary:   Surprises all around.  

Disclaimers: All characters of JAG belong to Donald Bellasarius and Bellasarius Productions; no copyright infringement intended.

0813 hrs. ET

April 5, 2002

"We are here in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, interviewing pilots who fly security over the Southeast US borders, some of them borrowed from other stations across the country," the ZNN reporter started her broadcast, explaining why the TV crew was in Gitmo.  Earlier in the week, they had spent time reporting on the condition of prison cells holding Al-Qaeda prisoners and upcoming plans for military tribunals.

The ZNN reporter shoved the microphone in the face of the first pilot she saw, a young, sandy-haired jet jockey, steaming along to his plane.  "Can't talk now, ma'am sorry," the pilot said.  The helmet he carried was labeled; "Fastball," and he sped away that quickly as he rushed to the plane and proceeded to climb aboard, leaving the reporter in the dust.  

"We have permission to do this, don't they know that?" the reporter exclaimed in frustration. The young woman, her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail, grabbed the arm of her cameraman.  "They've seen me here for three days. Christ, I ate lunch with them in the mess."

"Well, Shelby, maybe they have bigger fish to fry," the cameraman replied. "I mean, we are in a war, ya know."

"Right, but what'll it take, five seconds?  We aren't in the way. We were told we could do this."  But as she said it, another pilot appeared, and she spun on her heels to hurry in his direction.  She had a hard time catching up to him, as his long legs propelled him quickly across the pavement.

"Sir, Commander? I saw you in the mess yesterday, remember me?"

"Yeah," he said, stopping to look back in her direction, remembering that he had been told the reporters were going to be looking to send "messages to home."  They were told to cooperate, as the public appreciated meeting the men and women in uniform, and obviously it was a chance to say hello to family.  Most were happy to oblige, with at least a "Hi Mom." But not brash, arrogant young pilots like "Fastball."

Harmon Rabb Jr. did have something he wanted to say to someone in particular waiting back in the States, so he smiled at the young woman.

"Before you go off on your mission, um…" the reporter started, but realizing she didn't know his name, stumbled.

"Cmdr. Rabb," he said. "My call sign is Hammer." He halfway held up his helmet to show the label it carried.  

"Hammer, do you have anything you want to say to anyone back home?" She shoved the mike up to his face.

"Yeah, actually I do want to say something, I mean, of course I want to say hi to my mom and step father.  But uh, there's something else.  Should I go on?"

"Of course," the reporter laughed.  He is so polite, she thought, and good looking, but older than most of the pilots.

"Well, I want to say to something to one friend in particular.  Um, how's this, you know who you are and here's the message.  Um, I think it's about time to let go, both of us, I know I'm ready for that.  So I'll see you when I get back, count on it."  He winked at the reporter and walked away, then turned slightly to flash a thumbs up sign at the camera.

Back in JAG headquarters, standing in the bullpen, staring up at the overhead television sets, Col. Sarah Mackenzie felt a blush rise to her cheeks.  Surely no one would understand the message.  She could hear murmurs among the others in the bullpen, watching the screen, so she tried to slip into her office quietly, but one individual felt the need to track along after her.

"Ma'am, do you have any idea what he meant by that?"  Lt. Singer asked Mac who had almost succeeded in getting into her office before being accosted.  

When Mac just shook her head no, Singer walked away muttering, "I wonder who he was sending the message to?"   Mac sighed, thinking if Singer discovered the truth, it would not bode well for them.

Cmdr. Sturgis Turner rushed up to Mac's door as she tried to close it.  "Colonel, not so fast."

"Okay, come in, but close the door behind you."  

He slid into the guest chair as Mac walked around the desk, stopping to fiddle with a stack of papers, uncomfortable and yet a little excited.  Could the Admiral have heard?  Could anyone discern the meaning of Harm's message?  She tried to reassure herself that no one could, but then looked at Sturgis and wondered. 

"So, Sturgis, cat got your tongue?"  She needed to know his take on the message.

"No, I'm just thinking."

"Thinking of a way to get me to reveal MORE of my personal life," Mac said, but she was smiling.  

"Oh no need when the clues just keep falling into place," he smirked.  "By the way, Mac, you can relax, the Admiral probably never heard Harm's comment.  As you know he left early, so he's probably in Cuba too by now.  I doubt they have cable."

"Yes, but given some of the loose lips in this office, and I don't mean you of course, but given some of the troublemakers we have here, I'm sure what Harm said will be spread around and eventually end up in the Admiral's ear, with some kind of dim-witted explanation to go with it."  She tapped a pencil on the desk, thinking of Singer.

"So, my theory would seem to be correct.  That message was directed at you.  Best to spill it and clear up any misconceptions, Mac."  

"I'll tell you, because I trust you."  She sat down at the desk and contemplated how to explain the situation. "Harm and I had a conversation some time ago, about his difficulty in, well, letting go of the control he keeps over his feelings, in particular, his feelings about me.  It was a conversation that I initiated, and it did not go well. And a lot, I mean a lot, happened after that conversation. Let's leave it at that. But, I think the comment he made this morning was a reference to that.  Well, I'm sure of it."

"So he is apparently ready to relinquish the tight control he keeps over his feelings about you.  I think I'm beginning to understand a conversation we had awhile back now, he obviously wanted to tell me something about being involved with you, but chose to do so by denying that anything was going on, and denying it and denying it, until it was painfully obvious that he was only kidding himself. Well then, this is certainly a positive development, wouldn't you say? You should be feeling pretty good about this."

She started to deny it, but gave up.  "What's the use in hedging, yes, I am."  She even grinned as she said it.  "I'm a little at a loss about how to respond to it. I mean, he's up in the air, email won't reach him there."  She laughed.

"I would offer a bit of advice that is as simple as it gets, Mac, play the cards you're dealt."  He paused, then nodded to himself. "You know, I knew from the start that you two were involved. Denying something that much only peeks my curiosity."

"We weren't involved, haven't you figured that out yet?"

"Oh, I think you were.  Maybe not in a traditional,'dating' scenario, but you had something, and now I think you may have come to a point where you can recapture it again and move forward."

"Aren't you the optimist?"

He looked at her with his mouth open.  "And you're not?  Excuse me, but the man just opened the door to his heart in front of millions of television viewers.  What more do you want?"

She gave a studied smile.  "Am I being a pessimist then, Stugis?"  She really wanted an answer.

"When it comes to Harm, yes I think you are.  If you don't work this out now, well, it's only because of a lack of courage on your part, in my opinion."  He stood and walked to the door.  "Mac, it's time to go for it."  With that he walked out and closed her door.

Sitting at the desk, trying to work, she found her mind constantly drifting to the message transmitted from hundreds of miles away.  After all these years, when you were right in front of me, Harm, why did you wait until now to make this pronouncement? I can't even respond.  But, she realized that dwelling in such thoughts would only lead them into murky territory, and she had had enough of that.  Taking a deep breath she turned to her computer and fashioned a simple email.  It would at least be waiting for him after his flight.

"I saw you on TV and heard your message..  My answer is, me too.  I'm waiting. Be safe so you can come home. To me. "  She hesitated at the send button, thinking twice about the last two words, but remembering what Sturgis had said about courage,  she sent the email winging its way to him before fear could get the better of her.  

Feeling a wonderous new sense of hope, she forced herself to get back to work, saying a silent prayer for his safety, as she did every day he was away, but especially when he was flying.

Several hours later, a commotion in the bullpen caught Mac's attention and she looked up to see an old familiar figure standing at the door.  

"Mic?"  She exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"  The noise in the bullpen died down to a murmur. Harriett stood within earshot and so she waived him in. "Close the door."

"I'm meeting with Cmdr. Sturgis and Lt. Singer about a case, but I'm going back to Australia tomorrow.   Can I buy you lunch?"  He gave a forced, hesitant smile.

He was trying to be nice, she could tell, but she didn't know how to respond.  She wouldn't feel comfortable having lunch with him, but if she refused, it would seem callous.  Thinking briefly of Harm, glad that he was not in the office, she started to accept but she was surprised when Tiner rushed up to the door.

"Call for you, ma'am.  It's," Tiner looked at Brumby and stopped before he blurted out that the call was from the Commander.  "It's important."

She eagerly picked up the phone and waved at Mic to sit down.  She wanted the call to be from the Admiral, considering Mic's presence.  It was not.

"Mac," he said and her heart skipped a beat.

"Hi," she said back.  "You weren't out long."

"You saw?"

"Yes, didn't you get my email?"

"Not yet.  I got off the plane and found a phone. Is it something good?"

"Sure is," she replied.  "I was happy about what you said."

"Good," he said softly, and she could hear the relief in his voice.  

"Wish I was there or you were here to, um, talk about it."

"Maybe we should stop talking and just act."

She raised an eyebrow at that, and smiled into the phone. "Hey, I like that idea, but you're hundreds of miles away.  Why'd you have to think of it now?  I'd rather you were at least in the same room, you know?"

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"So you miss me like you missed your Tomcat, is that it?"

Harm chuckelled and she wondered if he was smiling his bright wide smile.

Mic grew more uncomfortable listening to the conversation, completely certain that the call was from Rabb.  Mac was practically rubbing his face in it, and he was getting madder by the minute.  Quickly he decided it was time to leave and stood up.

"You don't have to leave, Mic," Mac said, and then panicked as she realized her mistake.  She tried to explain to Harm.  "Mic is in the states today and dropped by the office."

Harm was silent for several moments. "Well, at least you told me."  She could hear in his voice both disappointment and jealousy.  "You were going to tell me right?"

"Of course. "

"I'll try not to jump to conclusions here, Mac, but part of me wants to get in a plane and fly straight there. I'm still in my flightsuit."

"Harm, there's no cause for concern. I promise."

Mic just shook his head, it was Rabb on the phone.  He stood by the door, one hand on the frame, unsure whether to stay or leave. He noticed that heads were turning in his direction, as those in the bullpen could barely contain their curiosity.  
  


"Alright, Mac, I'll keep the faith." He paused and she could hear a voice in the background, obviously someone had approached him and spoken to him.  He came back on the line.  "Hey, the Admiral just walked up and he wants to talk to you."  Harm was gone before she could say anything more.

"Colonel?"

"Yes , sir?"

"Colonel, as discussed you are in charge, but please check with Tiner, I think I neglected to re-assign the Thompson case, would you see to it that it is assigned to Singer. It's just her cup of tea."

"Yes sir.  Isn't that the case about the lieutenant who stole files from her C.O.'s office in order to try to get information she could use to feather her nest?"

"That's the one, Colonel. I'd like her to defend, of course."

"Yes, sir."  

"We will talk to you later, then," the Admiral said and the line went dead.

Harm's reaction to the news that Brumby was in the office bothered her.  And she could do nothing to correct any concerns he had.   

"Mac, I'd still like to take you to lunch," Brumby said from the doorway. "Unless you need Rabb's permission. Wouldn't want to hurt his flyboy sensibilities."

Mac turned her attention back to her ex-fiance and frowned at the statement about Harm.  Why should she go to lunch with him?  If she did, everyone in the bullpen would be aware of it, and the news would get back to Harm.  If she failed to go to lunch with the Australian, would she hurt his feelings, and did she care?   If she went with him, would that encourage him or hurt him further.  What really mattered?  Was a lunch worth the   risk?  Remembering, in a flash, the pain she had inflicted on all concerned after a fateful ferry ride in Sydney, she quickly decided on the safest course of action.  "I'm sorry, Mic.  I have so much work to do with the Admiral out of the office. I really can't go to lunch with you."

She had learned a few things in recent months, and she was not going to make obvious mistakes any more.  If she could help it.

"No need to make excuses. I'm perfectly aware of where I stand." He gave her a faint smile.  "Besides, I was only asking as a courtesy.  I'm hoping Lt. Singer will go to lunch with me.  I'll see you around, luv."  He walked out of the office and into the bullpen, headed for Singer's office.

Mac sat stunned watching him. Then her focus shifted on the bullpen where various heads dropped quickly.  Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax.  Not going to lunch was the right decision.  "Learned a little I guess," she said to herself. 

Moments later she watched as Lt. Singer strolled out of the office with Mic Brumby.  It was such a peculiar sight, seeing them together.  She felt pity for Mic, nothing more. Her mind shifted back to more important matters.  A certain flyboy.  A televised statement and a  phone call.  She had reassured him.  She had been honest.   And she could only hope that the beautiful bridge they were crossing was not swaying in the wind.

  
  



	2. TV Style 2 of 6

Title:  TV Style pt2  
Author: Navygirl  
Rating:  PG-13  
Classification: Harm/Mac  
Spoiler:   Capital Crime  
Summary:   Surprises all around.  

Disclaimers: All characters of JAG belong to Donald Bellasarius and Bellasarius Productions; no copyright infringement intended.

1619 hrs. ET

April 5, 2002

JAG HQ

Falls Church, VA

Mac became curious later when Lt. Singer returned from lunch almost three hours late, but rather than admonish the woman immediately, she wanted to consider the repercussions of dressing down the lieutenant for coming back late from a lunch with Mic Brumby, Mac's own ex-fiance.   She made a mental note to speak to Singer later.  Something more pressing had Mac's attention, standing at Harm's door was a lovely dark-haired woman with a visitor's badge, annoyed and raising a stink.

"Can I help you Miss?" Harriett said. 

"I have an appointment with Señoir Harm."

She used his first name.  Mac's radar was up.  Obviously, Harm had planned to meet with her and had left instructions for her admission and visitor's pass, or how else could she have gotten past the guard's gate?  And equally obvious, Harm had forgotten to change the appointment when he rushed off to fill in at Gitmo.

"Your name, Miss?" Harriett asked.

"Maria Elenac Carmelitta Mareno Guiterezz."  She said it indignantly.  She was becoming angry, Mac could hear and see that much.  The name seemed familiar.  Had Harm mentioned her?  Something from the past, in relation to Keeter?  As Mac began to remember the little Hjarm had told her, she felt sick.

"I'm sorry, Cmdr. Rabb is out of the office for a few days, Miss Guiterezz," Harriett continued, keeping her patience.

"But, my Harm hasn't seen me in several years. He would not do this."

Mac walked up to the petite beauty and spoke.  "I'm Col. Mackenzie, the Chief of Staff here, Miss Guitterezz.  May I be of assistance?"

It was unmistakable. The woman recognized her name.  "You are Col Mackenzie?"

"Yes, I am," Mac said with hesitation.

"I have heard your name, and you are an idiot."  Maria spat out the words. "When I spoke to my Harm to make this appointment, he told me all about you.  What a waste of his time you are. My Harm can do better than, than…."

"Excuse me, Miss," Mac interrupted hastily before any laundry was aired in public.  "Is there something I, we, can do for you?  Cmdr. Rabb is on assignment and will be unable to meet with you until he returns." 

"Never mind," came the smart reply and she turned on her heels.

"Please escort her out of here, Harriett.  We don't want her wandering around," Mac said  to the lieutenant who raced after the vanishing woman, catching her at the elevator.

Mac's stomach was unsettled and that feeling was only compounded by the looks coming in her direction from everyone in the bullpen.  She ignored the probing eyes and walked calmly back to her office.  Someone will be getting a second email, she said to herself.

But as she slipped back into her chair, the humor of the situation struck her.  This was someone from the past, she told herself.  Obviously he wasn't too concerned about seeing her, he neglected to let her know about the change in his schedule or to reschedule the appointment.  And the appointment was an office appointment, not a date, not coffee, not a movie.  And, he had apparently told Maria Elena yada yada yada something about their relationship.  This was not something to dwell on, not now, not in light of this morning's developments.

She was looking intently at her computer screen, unaware of the person standing at the door until she heard the soft knock.  "Ma'am, may I speak with you?"  Lt. Singer stood before her.  

Come in dragon lady, Mac thought, but did not say.  "Yes, Lieutenant, come in."  Just what I need now, she thought, unsure whether she wanted to hear what Singer had on her mind.  Then remembering the Admiral's instructions, she put up a hand to stop Singer from speaking.  "Before you get started, Lieutenant, the Admiral asked me to assign you this case," she said handing Singer the Thompson file.  "You will defend.  Now what was it you wanted to discuss?"

"Ma'am, I went to lunch with, um, Cmdr. Brumby today as you probably know.  And, I think I need to discuss what transpired with you, ma'am."

Mac's eyebrows shot up.  What now?  Some vane attempt to explain a nearly three-

hour lunch.  

"Ma'am, Cmdr. Brumby spent almost the entire lunch fuming over Cmdr. Rabb.  He said some things that, well, ma'am, if true, would be cause for alarm.  About the two of you ma'am, you and Commander Rabb.   As a couple.  About possible fraternization."

What ploy is this?  Is she warning me or threatening me?  This is too much.  With such thoughts, Mac had to struggle to keep her composure.  "Lieutenant, have you seen anything to warrant such an inference?  If you have, speak up."

"Well, ma'am, if I may speak freely?"  When Mac nodded, she continued.  "Today when Cmdr. Rabb was interviewed on television by the ZNN reporter…"

"Now what makes you think that Cmdr. Rabb's comments were directed to me?  Do you have any direct evidence or are you inferring that Cmdr. Rabb's comments imply fraternization, Lieutenant?"  Mac was beginning to boil.

"No, ma'am, not direct evidence, but Cmdr. Brumby said…"

"Whatever he said, Lieutenant, those were the words of my ex, my ex, fiancé, and he has many reasons to be malicious.  We did not end our relationship on good terms and..."

"Yes ma'am, I remember, it ended right after the Cmdr. Rabb's plane went down and he was hospitalized…"

"Lieutenant," Mac said firmly. "As I was saying, Cmdr. Brumby and I broke off the engagement on less than friendly terms, and he may have reason to malign me.  Not that this is any of your business.  Now, I don't see any reason to continue discussing my personal life with you."

"Ma'am, begging your pardon.  I was just concerned that you and the Commander could be in dangerous waters and wanted to warn you."

Ha, she's concerned about me, Mac thought.  Not likely.  "Well, what did Cmdr. Brumby say?"

"Well, ma'am, he said that he truly believes your feelings for Cmdr. Rabb kept you from committing to him, that is how he put it, ma'am.  And, he said that the Commander has the same feelings for you, but that neither one of you are willing to admit it.  He speculated that you had been, well, involved, at some point."

"Lt. Singer, these are the words of a scorned individual, you realize that, don't you?"

"Well, ma'am, but I remember when Cmdr. Rabb was lost at sea after his plane went down and you were extremely upset, irreconcilable, ma'am." 

"Yes, I was upset when Cmdr. Rabb's plane went down, we all were.  But, Cmdr. Rabb and I have been friends for years.  We are very close friends.  Have you ever had a close friend, Lieutenant?"

The Lieutenant blanched at the dig, but stood very still. 

"Well, close friends do care about each other, but not in a way that is anything similar to fraternization.  On another matter, Lieutenant, you were late returning from your lunch.  Care to explain?"

"Yes, ma'am, my car stalled, but fortunately Cmdr. Brumby was able to help me, and I was able to get back within a reasonable amount of time."

"Nearly three hours late," Mac said flatly. 

"Two hours and forty minutes late, I believe," Singer corrected.

"Two hours and fifty two minutes late, Lieutenant," Mac said and Singer did not argue, seeing that Mac was near a boiling point.  "I am going to have to take this up with the Admiral when he returns, unless you are willing to work late tonight to make up the time, and to come in early tomorrow as well.  And, I have some administrative paperwork I want you to handle, to remind you that timeliness is important around here.  Do we understand each other, Lieutenant?"

"But ma'am…"

"Dismissed," Mac said very firmly.  

"Yes, ma'am." Singer said and left quickly.

Fuming, Singer turned the corner, moving too fast to realize anyone was in her path, and ran into the shoulder of Cmdr. Turner who was walking to his office.

"Easy Lieutenant," Sturgis warned her.  

"Sorry, sir."  The anger in her voice was palpable.

"Lieutenant, is there a problem?"  Sturgis asked, looking at the young woman's down-turned mouth and fierce eyes.

"No sir," Singer lied as she hastened away, barely able to keep herself from exploding.

 "Wouldn't want to be the target on her radar," Sturgis mumbled as he watched her go.

Mac had turned her attention back to the computer screen and found an email waiting.  In it Harm said simply, "I can't wait to see you.  And, if need be, I'll send Brumby packing."

She chuckled.  At least Harm had a new goal in his life, keeping Brumby thousands of miles away.  It gave her an unfamiliar feeling, a glimpse of what it might be like to be loved by Harmon Rabb Jr.  Was that possible?

She replied to his email:  "Hey, I sent him packing all by myself.  But he went to lunch with Enemy1 before he left."  They had been using the term "Enemy1" as code for Singer for weeks.  "I want to see you sooner, not later," she added. "When will you be back?"

She wanted to add one more thing, but was a little afraid to say it, especially given the discussion with Singer.  Tentatively, she typed the word, testing herself.  It didn't look as scary as expected, but it did look foreign somehow.   "Love."  She looked at it again.  Would it surprise him or scare him to see that word at the close of her message?  Was she saying more than what she meant?  Thinking better of it, she started to erase the word, but fate stepped in, and, without realizing it, instead of touching the "erase" button, it was the "send" button that she touched.  Oh my god, she thought, and immediately felt a nervous pull to her stomach.

"Love," the message said.  Has to be one of the scariest words in the English language, she was convinced at that moment.   Not a word she wanted to say first.  But we've said it to each other before, in a way, she reassured herself, remembering the things said on the Admiral's porch.  You have someone who will always love you.   She relaxed at the memory.  

She loved him.  Even Sturgis was aware of it, given her revelation in an unguarded moment.  She shook off all worries, ready to go forward.

As for his visitor, she had purposely left out any mention of that in her email.  They could discuss it later, she decided.  Knowing Harriet would mention it to him at some point, she would let him bring it up, if it was even worth discussing.

Turning her attention back to the pile of work on her desk, she flipped through pages of a deposition.  Shortly after 1900 hours, Mac turned out the lights in her office, closed the door and went home.  She was the last to leave, the last one out the door.  

And the next morning, she was the first one to arrive.  She started right to work, turning on the computer, chagrined to find no new email message from Harm.  But, he was leaving Gitmo sometime today and would be back by evening, if not sooner.

When the rest of the staff arrived, Harriett turned on the TV monitors above the bullpen, and a ZNN reporter appeared, speaking again from Gitmo.  Mac tried to act nonchalant as she walked into the bullpen, saying good morning to everyone and moving in the general direction of the coffee room. She stopped when she saw a young pilot being interviewed.  She didn't catch his name, but the handle on the helmet under his arm said, "Blade Runner."

"Yes ma'am, I am here to fly security. I want to say hello to my wife and son back home."  

Behind the young pilot, Mac could see a familiar figure, back in his summer white uniform, striding towards the helo deck.  The reporter caught up with him, and several heads in the bullpen popped up when they heard the reporter call him by name.

"Cmdr. Rabb.  Looks like you are heading back home today."

"Yes, ma'am, back to JAG."

"Oh, you're a lawyer?"  She was completely surprised.  "And a pilot. Impressive."

"Thank you ma'am. "

Don't get a big head, Harm, Mac thought briefly.

"We spoke to you yesterday.  Anything more you want to say before you leave?"

"Yes, ma'am.  Um, if you're listening. Got the email.  I'll see you when I get back, and ditto the last word."  He flashed a bright grin, but then, looking surprised,  turned to his left and snapped a salute.  "Admiral."  

The camera showed the Admiral had walked up next to Harm and said something.  Harm responded by standing at ease. 

"Admiral?"  The reporter asked, nearly falling all over herself to get the microphone close to him.  She remembered him from a newscast the previous day concerning the planned tribunals.   "Admiral, you are the JAG, correct?"

"Yes," he said seriously, but smiling at the reporter. She knew the answer, she just needed for the viewers to know.

"And you were here to make recommendations in relation to upcoming tribunals, is that correct, sir?"

"Yes, but I can't talk about that right now," Admiral Chegwidden said politely.  Then, thinking of the opportunity before him, he added,  "I do want to say something to my people back at JAG."

"Yes, sir, please go ahead."

"People," the Admiral said briskly. "Get back to work."


	3. TV Style 3 of 6

Title:  TV Style pt 3

Author: Navygirl

Rating:  PG-13

Classification: Harm/Mac

Spoiler:   Capital Crime

Summary:   Surprises all around.  

Disclaimers: All characters of JAG belong to Donald Bellasarius and Bellasarius Productions; no copyright infringement intended.

1643 hrs. ET

April 6, 2002

JAG HQ

Falls Church, VA

Harm arrived back at JAG a few minutes behind the Admiral.  He strolled off the elevator feeling particularly alive, eager to see his favorite lady and still exhilarated from having flown security out of Gitmo.  He hoped to put in about an hour checking messages and catching up, then he intended to take Mac to dinner.  As he eased his way through the bullpen, cover under his arm, his plan was to go directly to Mac's office.  He could see her working at her desk and couldn't wait to talk to her, but Bud popped into his path, nearly running him down.  

"Commander, sir," Bud said, over-eager, over-zealous as always.

"Hey, Bud, how's it going?"  Rabb said, expecting to continue on his glide path towards Mac's door.

"You have a call, sir, and she sounds, well, uh," Bud lowered his voice.  "A little p'od, sir. She's been calling and calling all day today.  She sounds Latin or something, but of course I could be wrong, but then again, I think she's probably Latin as she did say, what did she say, oh I don't remember, sir, anyway, do you want to take the call, sir?  I think you have to take her call, she's just going to call back if you don't."

Rabb stopped dead in his tracks, realizing instantly who the caller had to be.   "Okay, Bud, I'll take it in my office."  He was resigned to his fate, and resigned to the realization that he would not be able to speak to Mac for at least a few more minutes.  He turned and walked to his office.

"Cmdr. Rabb," he said into the mouthpiece and quickly braced as an onslaught of angry words were flung at him.  The woman was p'od, no doubts there. Bud had called the ball.

"Well," he started to say, but could not get a word in as she continued to read him her own riot act.  "Maria, you have to…"

He looked up to see Mac standing at his open door.  "Just a minute," he said into the phone, in order to look up at her and smile.  "Hi."  He flashed his best one, full of the apology he wanted to give.  He really had meant to go directly to her office, to see her, he tried to say with his eyes. "I'm sorry, this should only take a second, Mac."

At that even Mac could hear some of the language coming through the phone, forcing Harm to hold the phone at little father from his ear. "Hang on, hang on, Maria.  I know you wanted to come by here to see me, although I have no idea why, but…" She interrupted him again, and he gave Mac a hopeless look.  As he looked at Mac, he noticed

that behind her was another woman, the ever adorable Enemy 1, standing close enough to hear, making no bones about eavesdropping.  

Lt. Singer was indeed all ears as she realized this could be the moment she needed to affirm what Mic Brumby had told her, for clearly if Cmdr. Rabb was speaking to another woman, and there was anything between the Commander and Colonel Mackenzie, it would show on the woman's face.  Singer studied Mac, seeing only a sort of amused smirk cross her face as she watched the Commander squirm.

"Maria, I know I was supposed to be here.  But, hey, I got called away.  Duty calls."  He was angling to get off the phone, but could only hope for a rescue.   "I was sent to fly security…What?  You don't want to hear an excuse you say.  Look, I thought you were coming by for a visit..."

Singer could see that Rabb was in trouble with the woman on the other end of the phone, and obviously that woman had some sort of proprietary interest in him.  She looked again at the Colonel, and seeing the same small smirk, decided that all her hopes of finding evidence to support Mic's claims were sinking.  Clearly this was the woman with whom Rabb was involved, and obviously the woman didn't see his interview on television.   Equally obvious, the comments he made on television were not intended towards the Colonel, since clearly the Commander was involved with someone else.  A woman who could keep him in check, apparently.  Resigned, Singer walked away, but she stole one look back to see that the Colonel was now laughing at the Commander's predicament.  "How could I have been so wrong?"  Singer said aloud to herself.

"Hmmm?" Cmdr. Turner asked as he passed the sullen lieutenant.  "Were you speaking to me?"

"No sir, sorry sir."  Singer replied and kept moving.

Turner looked away from her to see what was taking up so much of the Colonel's interest.  He walked up to her.  "Rabb's back I see."

"Yes, and having a grand time trying to explain to an old friend why he missed an appointment with her."

"Another woman?"

"Not like that Sturgis," Mac said, knocking him on the arm in a playful punch.   "Well, maybe at one time she was, but not any more."

"You sound pretty sure of yourself, Colonel," he replied.  "And you should be."  He gave her an appreciative smile and turned his attention to his friend who was struggling with the call and beginning to sweat profusely.  

Mac smiled to herself and walked away, shaking her head as she thought about Harm's efforts to handle things.

"Maria, I know you wanted to see me, but frankly, I don't understand why.  That was years ago.  Years ago, Maria.  I've got a...What?   Maria, it doesn't matter who it is...Well, yes, that's right."  Rabb was losing the battle with the outraged woman, but was somewhat relieved when the line suddenly went dead.  

He looked up to see Turner where he had expected Mac.  Muttering an "ah shoot" he brushed past Turner.  "Sorry, buddy, catch up with you later, I've got to find a certain Colonel before she goes TAD to Bangkok or something."

"Rabb, watch what you say."  Turner admonished him as he hurried towards Mac's office.

"Believe me, Sturgis I know."

He slowed only when he reached Mac's door, finding her just sitting down at her desk, a strange smile on her face at the sight of him.  "Hey, I like your style, there Commander," Mac said, watching him squirm a little at the unexpected comment.

He didn't know what she meant. "What style? You mean that call?" Harm was a little nervous, not quite sure what to expect.  Would she bust his chops over the call?

"No, Harm, relax." Mac paused for several breaths, enjoying his discomfort but not wanting it to go on too long. "I mean your TV style, Harm, you ought to be in pictures."

Relief washed over him and an easy smile came to his face. "Yeah, but you're the one lovely to see."

"Whew, you can turn on the charge, can't you?"  She enjoyed bantering with him, but hoped he would not slip into his fighter jock mode and evade sincerity once again.

"Mac," he said her name slowly. "I meant what I said, I couldn't wait to get back, to get back here to you."  He spoke very softly.

His sweetness made her blush.  "Close the door," she said.  After he turned and closed the door, she added, "And come over here and say that one more time." 

He raised an eyebrow and hesitated, but then walked to her side of the desk.  "I said," he stared into her eyes, and leaned in close to her.  "I couldn't wait to get back here to you."

She looked up into his eyes and could not speak.  She remembered a line from the movie Top Gun, "take me to bed or loose me forever," but was too shy to say it.

"Well?"  He was so close she could smell his aftershave, feel his breath.  When she still didn't speak, he added.  "I mean it, Mac, you and me, it's time, don't you think?"

She could only say, "Yes."  And her voice crackled with nervousness.

"So, let's go to dinner in an hour," he said and touched a hand to her hair. "I have lots of things I want to say to you. Things I should have said a long time ago."

"Me too," she uttered.  They looked at each other for several minutes, neither one moving, barely breathing. 

Remembering that they were in the office and the blinds were open, he slowly and reluctantly backed away.  "Okay,  then I'll swing by here later," he said softly.  "You think about where you want to eat." 

As he walked to the door, she called after him.  "Your place?  I want to eat at your place."

"I don't have any food Mac." He said without turning around.

"Doesn't matter."

He liked her reply and turned back to let her know it with a wide, wide grin.  "We can pick something up on the way."  

He started to open the door and almost added, "You're going to need the energy, Colonel."  

But he was truly surprised when she said softly, unaware he could hear it, "You're going to need the energy, Commander." 

She couldn't see the amused look on his face as he opened the door and sauntered into the bullpen.

Within fifty minutes, he was waiting at her office door, just standing there, watching her as she tried to concentrate on a brief.  

She knew he was there, but pretended otherwise. 

He waited for her to look up, but she continued with the game and he continued to stand there, fairly certain she had sensed his presence. 

They were so caught up in the pretense that when the Admiral walked up behind him, he was completely surprised. 

"Gads are you still here, Commander. You must be tired. I know I am."

"Yes, sir," he said.  "I'm just about to leave, just waiting to speak to the Colonel."

"Good night, then," the Admiral said, amused, but not allowing it to show.  I'll bet you want to talk to her, son.  I just hope you get it right for a change. Man can fly a tomcat like it's strapped to his six, but can't manage even a simple conversation if it's from the heart.  

The Admiral sighed as he watched Rabb from the elevator, secretly wishing him luck.

Mac was standing beside him in an instant, standing ever so close.  "I'm ready," she said, and blushed at the double meaning of her own words. She hit the light switch by the door, and they walked through the bullpen, the last to leave.  At the elevator, Harm turned towards her and paused.  He wanted to say something, but the words would not come. "How 'bout Chinese?" he said.  "I'll stop by and pick it up and meet you at my place."  She just gave him a half nod.

They stepped onto the elevator and the door closed, and he couldn't stand it any longer. He stepped closer to her and touched her hair.  She leaned slightly towards him, aware that the elevator door would open quickly and someone might be waiting outside.  "I've missed you," was all he managed to say before the door opened and she started to walk out.  No one was waiting and he quickly grabbed her hand, pulled her back inside and hit the door 'close' and 'stop' buttons.  Then he smiled.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Yes,"

"Then you're in trouble, 'cause I'm a Marine."

"I was hoping you'd forget that for a few minutes anyway," he said, and ran a hand through one side of her hair, pulling her closer.  He kissed her gently but firmly. "Now, don't kick my six for that," he said.

"Wouldn't think of it." She said and ran her hand over his arm and up to his shoulder.   The elevator started to move and he quickly hit the stop button again, leaning on it, drawing her over to his side.  He nuzzled her hair and took a deep breath.  "Okay, so you saw what I said on TV."

"Yes," she answered softly.  "And, I understood it just fine."

"Ah, you mean we're finally on the same wave length?"

"I think so, Harm, at least it looks that way."  

"Because, you know, I'm falling for you," he said.  

It was quite an admission, and she knew it and did not take it lightly.  She kissed him quickly and lovingly, and he kissed her back, the passion beginning to take control of both of them, just as it nearly did one night on the Admiral's porch.

"Let's get out of here, Harm.  And, uh, don't bother stopping for Chinese."

"Well, would it be presumptuous of me to ask if you want to just ride home with me?" he asked.

"I don't think I should leave my car here, people might see it, talk, you know."  This practical concern could not be ignored. He nodded and they walked to the parking lot in silence.

He opened the driver's side door for her and she slipped inside and opened the window.  "I'll see you there in minutes.  Don't stop for anything, Harm." She gave him a coy look.

He leaned just inside the window for a second, but rether than kiss her as she expected, she touched the tip of her nose with his finger, then he backed away and watched her drive off, walking to his SUV and starting it up.

"Finally," he thought, pulling out of the lot. As he drove towards home in the late evening light, memories kept him company.  Their meeting in the Rose Garden, the funny way she acted when she caught him kissing Lt. Schiparelli, dancing with her, Sydney, Mic, the stolen moments on the Admiral's porch, agonizing over the confusion when Renee's father died, the fear of losing her, and hearing the words "back at the beginning" at a time when he felt he had lost her for sure.  Looking back on it this way, he had to admit that it had slowly dawned on him how he felt about her.  It had built like a wave until it washed over him.  He smiled remembering the kiss they exchanged under the mistletoe at Christmas.  He knew it then, but didn't have a clue what to do about it.

As he approached the off ramp, his cell phone rang.  "Hey, I said don't stop for anything," she said. "I'm already sitting on your couch, lonely."

"Ah, I got tangled up in a road crew mess, trying to take a short cut," he said.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just a few seconds away."

"Seconds?  Are you sure?"

"Okay, minutes given your precise Swiss time mechanism thing," he said.  "Hey, I have the new Dave Mathews C.D. on my desk, if you want to put it on.  And, you know I do have some lasagna in the freezer if you want to stick it in the microwave, it's veggie lasagna, but you know..."

"Harm, I'm not hungry. I just want you to shut up and get here."

"Yes, ma'am."  He hung up the phone and smiled to himself.  God, finally, finally they were getting it right.  

When he opened the door to his apartment, the lights were out.  Her car had been parked outside, so she was up to something.  "Mac?"  He called out, only slightly confused, hoping he could guess where she was.

She didn't answer, so he flicked on a small lamp, enough to keep from stumbling around, then waited.  "Mac?"

"I'm in here, Harm," came the intriguing reply from the vicinity of his bedroom.

Tossing his cover on the couch, he made it to the bedroom in seconds, but did not turn on the light.  He looked at the bed, but in the dark, wasn't certain if she was there.  "Mac?" he asked again.  

From behind the door, she slipped up behind him and grabbed him, giggling as she wrapped her arms around the waist.  But, he wasn't completely surprised, half expecting something just like this from her, given her penchant for playful mischief at times.

"Got ya, Harm," she said.  "You can't sneek up on a Marine," she laughed.

"Ah, come on Mac, be serious already," he said, surprising himself with his own words.  

She was a little taken aback, felt a little as if she had been chastised, and walked a few steps away.  "Okay, sorry."  Then she admitted, "I'm just nervous."

"Well, I am nervous too."  He said and in the dim light he saw that she understood as he reached for her and wrapped his arms around her waist.  He eagerly kissed her.

"This is amazing, that we're here together at last," she said. 

"I was thinking the same thing," he replied. "And I was thinking that given how I feel about you…." She was looking up at him, and he had to remember to breathe. "I mean, I guess, I don't want to start something unless we're sure about what we're doing.  I care too much.  I said it on the Admiral's porch, and I mean it even more now.  I don't want to ever lose you."

"Harm, that won't happen.  There's no Mic, there's no Renee.  We are finally together. But, honestly, I've been thinking so much about this, that I don't think I could live one more day just being friends." 

He leaned over and kissed her. Then he stepped back a little and took a deep breath. "Mac, you've got to know by now that I love you."

The emotions overwhelmed her, she could not speak.  Hearing him say the words brought tears to her eyes.  She could not draw a breath for fear that the spell would break.  But it was broken anyway when the phone rang.

They only stood there looking at each other.   

"Mac?" He asked.  "Say something, please."

She started to speak, but, before she could do so, they heard the answering machine and the Admiral's voice.

"Commander, I hope I'm not being presumptuous, but I need to get in touch with Colonel Mackenzie, and she's not answering her phone at home…"

Harm walked over to pick up the cordless phone from the bedstand.  "Sir?"

"Ah, good, Commander.  Do you know where the Colonel is?"  

"She's right here, Admiral."  He held out the phone, not wanting to interfere with her duties, but still wanting to hear her response, his heart aching as he waited.

"Admiral?"  She spoke into the phone but looked at Harm.  When he started to turn and walk away, she reached for his hand and held it.  His eyes lifted a little.  He waited next to her as she listened to the Admiral.  Clearly it was important.

"Yes sir, I can do that.  I'll be ready, sir."  She hung up the phone and sighed.  "Harm, I need to leave, I'm sorry.  The Admiral is sending me on an assignment at Webb's request."  She took his hand and put it close to her heart.  "I don't know how else to say it, my heart will be here with you."

"That's enough for me," he said and kissed her, every prayer he held in his heart expressed as his lips touched her's.  "I do love you," he said and pulled away to look at her.

She had to be able to say the words, she felt them. Fear was tightening around her chest.  What is wrong with me, she thought. I'm not afraid of the mission, I'm afraid to tell the man I love that he is the most important person in the world to me.  Marine, you need to speak. 

She reached up and touched his face, "I love you Harm," she said finally. "But I have to go.  The Admiral wants me on a plane right away.  I don't have much time." With that she walked away, picking up her purse.  

Harm followed her, unsettled and more than a little worried about the "mission."

"We will have our time together, Mac," he said as she walked out the door. 

"Yes, we have to," she said, tears threatening as she looked back.  Without hesitation, she rushed back to him  for one more kiss. 


	4. TV Style 4 of 6

Title:  TV Style pt  4

Author: Navygirl  
Rating:  PG-13  
Classification: Harm/Mac  
Spoiler:   Capital Crime  
Summary:   More surprises!  

Disclaimers: All characters of JAG belong to Donald Bellasarius and Bellasarius Productions; no copyright infringement intended.

1623 hrs. ET

April 6, 2002

McMurphy's Bar

Georgetown

Several hours later, seated at the bar, nursing a fourth malt liquor, Harm told Sturgis about his last words with Mac.  

"Well, buddy, you finally found your voice," Sturgis said, sipping his draft.  

"Yeah, but my timing sucks."

"Harm, you'd be even more upset if she left without hearing those three little words from you."

"You haven't asked about her reaction, what she said."  He pointed out, ordering another beer by signaling to the bartender. "Sure glad you're driving."  He had called Sturgis shortly after Mac left and had convinced him to pick him up for a trip to McMurphy's.

"Go easy on that stuff," Sturgis cautioned him.

"Right.  But, like I said, you haven't asked…"

"I don't need to ask."

"Huh?"

"She told me some time ago about her feelings for you."

"And you didn't say anything to me!"  Harm exclaimed, surprised and mildly annoyed at his friend.

 "It was a slip of the tongue, and she made me promise to keep it under wraps."

"Oh. Okay then,"  he said and, grabbing a piece of popcorn from the bowl , tried to toss it into his mouth, missing and hitting himself in the side of the face with it.

"I think you're out of practice at this drinking stuff, buddy."

"Well, until she gets back, I may just make this a nightly ritual."

"I know you better than that, and I don't think you'll do anything of the sort."

"Damn Webb," he said, picking up a book of matches and then throwing them down with a flick of the wrist.  "Whatever he has up his sleeve…" He pointed a finger at Sturgis. "Well, he better not put her in danger."

"Harm, I don't know what to tell you."

"Well, tell me why the Admiral sent her instead of me, tell me that, will ya?  I mean, she may be a Marine, but she's my Marine, and I don't want her in danger.  I should have gone instead."

"Maybe it's her language skills, did you think of that?"  He patted Harm's shoulder roughly.  "Buddy, she'll be fine," he said, but knew it was not a convincing argument.

"She better be fine, or I'll have his six."  His words were almost slurred.  "Ah, hell, look who just wandered in.  The ole Mic'aroo himself."

Mic Brumby ambled up to the pair of officers. "Rabb," he said flatly. "Hello." .

"Ah, Cmdr. Bumby, this is Cmdr. Turner, also from JAG."  

Mic frowned at the mispronunciation, but chose to ignore it, uncertain if it was intentional

"Sturgis, Mic here was engaged to Mac some time ago.  Jeez, that was ages ago, wasn't it Mic?  So whacha doing these days?  Gone back to the Navy in Oz or did you take up selling vaccumm cleaners in the states?  You always liked to play in the dirt."

Mic looked perturbed, but could see that Rabb had been drinking.  He turned to Sturigis instead. "Glad to meet you," he said and Sturgis nodded in acknowledgment.  Pointing his head at Rabb, he asked,  "He's been here awhile, I take it?"

Sturgis shurgged.  "Just ignore him, he's a little upset and has decided to tie one on."

"Rabb, boozing it up?  That's a new one. Must have been a blonde."  

"Sit yourself down, buddy," Harm suddenly said to Brumby.  "We have a lot to talk about."  Harm waived at a stool, but Brumby continued to stand next to Sturgis.

"I'm not so sure about that Rabb,"  Mic said, looking around. "Besides, I'm just about to catch a flight back home. Missed my earlier flight."

"Australia, Mic's from Australia."  Rabb said to Sturgis.

"I gathered that, Harm, from the accent."

"Sharp as a tac," he said to Mic, pointing at Sturgis with a cigar he had pulled from his shirt pocket.  He proceeded to snip off the end and then lit it up,  McMurphy's being one of the few bars where smoking was still permitted.

"I thought you gave those up?"  Sturgis asked.  
  
"Desperate times calls for desperate measures," he said. Then he looked at Mic, "Woman troubles, you understand."  He was baiting a trap.

 "So Sarah's not with you tonight?"  Mic asked, sensing an advantage, wanting to bury a dagger in the other man's chest.  Harm was drunk, and there had to be a reason.

Harm narrowed his eyes and glared at him; he didn't like Mic calling her by her given name, he didn't like the memory that this man had been familiar with the woman he loved.  But realizing his advantage, he drew back. "She would be if she could be,"  he said a little too smugly and then looked away, savoring the cigar.

"Well, bloody hell, no surprise there," Mic said, growing more angry.  "You know damn well, you're the reason she's not with me, you're what broke us up."

"What do you mean?" Sturgis asked, but Mic ignored the question. 

"You left," Rabb said, staring straight ahead, puffing on the cigar and purposely not looking at the Australian.

Mic was livid. "Hell yes I left.  From what I could tell you we're with her before.  Am I right, Rabb?  Before you took that little dip of your's and brought everything crashing down with you?"

Harm turned on the bar stool and stared at him.  He wanted to hurt Brumby somehow.  He wanted to take a swing at him.  Like Australia. Exactly like that. 

"I know something happened the night of our engagement party, on the Admiral's porch."

Harm allowed a sly grin to cross his face, the cigar crunched between his teeth,  enjoying the pain he was inflicting on Brumby.  Make of it what you will, Mic.

"You're a sorry son of a…" Mic said, seeing Harm's smug face. 

But Rabb decided on another tactic.  Waiting for effect, he took the cigar from his mouth and flicked the ashes in an ashtray, then spun it between his fingers. "Now, hold on, Mic, don't get your knickers in a bunch.  Nothing really happened that night.  We talked."  Then, putting the cigar back in his mouth, he added with too much satisfaction, "It was just a goodbye kiss."  

"Harm, I think we could be drifting into rough seas here, man," Sturgis said, seeing the two men were about to come to blows.

Mic was boiling and glared at Rabb, wanting to tear the man's heart out.  "Well, looks like neither one of us has won."

"Oh, I won alright."  Harm said, the cigar still between his teeth.

He was enjoying the sight of Mic fuming. He was enjoying the power he held over the Aussie jackass. Briefly he wondered if it was a good idea to gloat.  Hell yes, he decided.  He put the cigar in the ashtray and took a long drink of beer.

"Yeah, well, fat lot of good it's done you," Mic spat. "She's not exactly sitting here hanging on your every word.  What did ya do, Rabb? Screw it all up?"

Sturgis put up a hand.  "Fellas, this is getting a little out of control here.  How about we step it down a notch."

Rabb took another drink of beer and picked up the cigar, waiting. Mic just stood there looking at him, wanting to throw a punch at his head.  "I'd like to take a poke at you, mate."

"Well, mate," Rabb said with disdain.  "I'll meet you outside then."

"Ah, good, at last, but first, where is Sarah?"

"The Colonel is on an assignment, out of town," Rabb said, putting out the cigar and getting up from the bar stool. "It's a need to know basis, and frankly, Bugme, you don't need to know. Now, get your six outside so I can break that damn face of your's."

With that Sturgis stood up and stepped between them, pushing Mic back.  

"Don't stand between us, Sturgis, the last man who did that ended up with a broken jaw. And if anyone's going to suffer tonight…"

From behind him, Harm felt a hand on his shoulder.  When he turned around he was surprised to find the Admiral standing just behind him, and next to the Admiral a dark-haired woman he had seen in the office talking to Mac.  "Son, I think you need to think a little before you say anything more.  I'm advising you, no, I'm ordering you to get your six home.  Sturgis can you arrange that?"

"Yes sir," Turner said.  Harm knew it was best to keep quiet.

Then the Admiral turned to Brumby.  "Cmdr. Brumby, I see that you are once again stirring up things with my people. I hope I won't be seeing you in these parts at any point in the near future.  Can I call you a cab?"  
  


Brumby had stopped glaring at Harm and was looking away in the distance.  He shook his head.  "I'll take care of that myself, Admiral.  Thank you."

The Admiral turned back to Harm, "And, Commander, you are leaving now, correct?"

"Yes, sir."  Harm threw several bills on the bar and walked away with Sturgis.  

Mic watched them go, the Admiral still standing next to him.  "Mic, you need to leave it alone.  Nothing good can come of meddling in their relationship, surely you know that by now.  You'll only hurt yourself, and possibly Mac further.  If I were you, I'd start forgetting about those two."

Then thinking more of it, the Admiral added, "And, fighting Rabb didn't turn out too well back in Sydney, so I would hope you've learned from that lesson."  
  


"Admiral, I respect your opinion, but that smug S.O.B…"

"I remind you that Cmdr. Rabb is one of my officers, Mic, and you need to watch what you say.  Or you may be fighting me, rather than Rabb."

Mic shrugged and was silent. He paid for his drink and asked the bartender to call a cab.

Outside the bar, Harm was standing at the door of Turner's SUV.  "I was just fine until the Admiral stepped in."  

"Yeah, Harm, you were doing great in there." He didn't hear Sturgis chuckle or see him shake his head.  "Hey and no cigars in the truck."

"I could have taken that Aussie mule."

"What good would that do, Rabb?  What is the point of fighting the man? You were like two banty roosters in there."

"He just gets on my nerves." 

"Because he had Mac when you wanted to be with her."

In a moment of complete honestly, Harm replied. "Exactly.  I was an idiot and the sight of him reminds me of that.  But, truth be told, Sturgis, I really just want to wipe that shit-eating grin off his mug."

"I'm sure he was thinking along the same lines," Sturgis mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Harm, just get your six in the boat and we'll sail on home."

"Aye, aye."  


	5. TV Style 5 of 6

Title:  TV Style pt 5

Author: Navygirl

Rating:  PG-13

Classification: Harm/Mac

Summary:   Includes my speculation on upcoming episodes.

Disclaimers: All characters of JAG belong to Donald Bellasarius and Bellasarius Productions; no copyright infringement intended.

0930 ET

Saturday

Harm's Apartment

The ticking clock sounded like Big Ben; the birds outside the window were having a riot; and the dripping shower was Chinese water torture to the waking Commander.  Funny he didn't remember hitting his head against the side of a two ton truck.  And his mouth tasted like he'd been sucking on the end of a tomcat turbine.  But the worst part -  everything was still spinning a little, just as it had been the night before when he finally went to bed.  

It wasn't the four or five malt liquors at the bar that had left him with such a nasty hangover, at least not alone.  It was what he added to the mix when he got home,  a couple of shots of bourbon, at least. "Bad idea, Rabb," he said outloud and forced himself out of bed.  "Thank God for Saturdays."

Still in his boxers, he wobbled into the kitchen and stood in front of the coffee pot for a few minutes. After the world stopped spinning from the mere act of bending over to pick up a dropped spoon, he started the coffee and grabbed cereal and milk.  Flipping on a news channel on the little TV he kept tucked in the corner for just such occasions, he sat at the counter, eating cereal and trying to remember the night before.  Brumby came to mind, and he had the distinct feeling they had nearly come to the blows. Something had put a stop to that, but he wasn't quite sure who or what.  He had smoked a cigar, he knew that much.  And, he'd fallen getting out of Turner's SUV, which is why his chin was scraped, he felt certain of that.  "Or did I throw a few punches at Bugme?  Man, no more booze for me."

Putting the empty bowl in the sink, he stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower, pausing to look in the mirror.  "Oh god, you look like hell," he said, pondering the scraped chin and dark circles under his eyes.  

After a shower and a shave, he threw on an old T-shirt and shorts, retrived the newspaper and, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, paddled back to the couch, but his mind was not on the news.  He had stopped trying to remember the night before.  Only one thing came to mind.  One missing face, one beautiful lady.  

As he sat there sipping the coffee, his mind was wrapped around their goodbyes.  We are getting too good at saying goodbye, Mac, he thought.  But, at least this time there is reason for hope.  For a moment, he remembered the night on the Admiral's porch, and the weeks after his crash, how he had felt that all hope for a relationship with her had vanished.  "We wasted so much time," he said aloud to himself.  "But I have only myself to blame."

Others had seen it before they did, before he did anyway.  The jealousy Renee exhibited at the mention of Mac's name, and Brumby's similar reaction towards his own presence spoke volumes about the unacknowledged relationship.   Why had it taken him so long to get off his six and do something about it.  And why now that they finally had a chance, did fate have to interefer yet again?

Dwelling on this will do you no good, he told himself between sips of the coffee.  He looked at the newspaper headlines,  and as he focused on a story about Gitmo, the phone rang. Wincing as his headache intensified, he found the phone under a pillow on the couch.

"Rabb," he said, by habit answering as he did in the office.    

"What happened to hello?"  She said, barely able to contain her joy at the sound of his voice.

"Ah, Mac."  

"Yep, it's me."

"Where are you?"

"That's classified."

"Hey, I'm cleared, I have it on good authority."

"I'm joking, Webb just needed me in Gitmo."

"That place is getting to be very popular for us, have you noticed?"

"Yeah.  Too bad we can't get our assignments down here in synch."

"So what's the scoop?"

"I can't say too much over the phone, but there's no cause for alarm."

"That's a miracle, with Webb involved,"  he said, then he could wait no longer, could chit chat no further.  "I miss you, you have no idea."

"So what did you do last night?"

"Sturgis and I had a few drinks. How long do you think you'll be there?"

"Only a few days, I hope, but it could be longer."  She paused.  "Harm, I want to be back there with you."

"Well, we can dream."

"Yeah.  But I've had to settle for dreams for far too long."

"Oh really.  You're going to have to share some of those with me sometime."

"Oh, I plan on it," she said.  "But, the other night was better than any dream."

"Well, it could have been, but you had to up and leave…"

"I know, I know,  it's the life of a Marine, Harm, what can I tell ya?"

"Better get your green Marine butt back here soon," he said. "Or I'll be down there with a team of Seals."

"Ork ork."

"What was that?"  

"Static I guess."

"Using those cheap cell phones again, Colonel?"  He laughed.  "Really, Mac, be careful.  I mean it.  I need you back here."

"Yeah and this time I do know the reason."

"Ha, ha."  

"Harm, I have to go now. Don't worry about me, I'm here more as a translator than anything else."

"Why am I not so sure I can believe that."

"Just don't worry.  Bye."

"Bye."  He put the phone down on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch.  He couldn't contain a laugh, "You know the reason." Well, at least they could look back and laugh at themselves.  It was progress.  It was all progress, given where they were only months ago.  He sighed and thought of his favorite Marine as he drained the last of the coffee.

1445 ET

Monday 

GITMO

It was boiling hot where Mac was sitting, under the shade of an awning near the front door of the H.Q.  It had been her first break all day, and she was exhausted, having been up late discussing strategy with Webb.  But, she didn't have time to think about the heat.  It's Cuba, Marine, just suck it up.  She walked back in the door, into the interrogation room, to wait for the prisoner.  

Many of the prisoners spoke Farsi, and Webb's goal was to have Mac, a Farsi speaker, around them as much as possible, near their cells, in the interrogation rooms, walking with them in the exercise room, any opportunity to glean information from their conversations,  conversations they assumed were private when they spoke in a language unfamiliar to most of the Marines at Gitmo.

Mac had found one prisoner who seemed to be more talkative than the rest, Ahmad Nasini, and several things that he had said had piqued her interest.  Earlier in the day, she had walked Nasini around the exercise yard and, listening when he spoke to his brother, in Farsi about transactions, exercises, and the movements of the leader, she had made mental notes.   What she had learned was disconcerting.  If correct, Osama Bin Laden was no longer in Afghanistan, something that had been speculated upon in the press. But she also learned about money being gathered and training being conducted, and it was troubling to say the least.   She wanted to confront the prisoner, but she also didn't want to give away the fact that she understood the language, so she had to be content with listening, reporting, and waiting.  

In the interrogation room, she observed only, since her role was as his guard, and little information was gleaned from Nasini.  He seemed to have a working knowledge of English, enough to understand and answer some questions.  It was hard to tell if he was evading the other questions or simply didn't understand.  Either way, little was learned. 

She walked him back to the makeshift holding area, and noted that his brother was there to greet him.  The brother spoke first asking if the "Infidel" had learned anything of their plans.  Catching snippets of their brief converstaion, Mac understood that the training was in explosives, that money was being funnelled from sources in Iraq, and that something was being planned for a date obviously not too far in the future, given the excitement in their voices.  She needed to meet with Webb again, and after securing the prisoner, rushed back to the H.Q. to call him on his cell phone, wishing he could be reached on a more secure line.

"Webb here," he said.  

"It's me.  I've got more."  She was cautious..

"Well, we can discuss in a short time."  He echoed the caution, hanging up quickly.  He was in Gitmo, but they were trying not to be seen together, at least not where prisoners might observe them.  They would meet just before dusk at a training course, near the mud pits, a spot Mac had suggested the night before as remote and as secure as possible.

Mac needed to seem to the prisoners to be an inconsequential guard, although these prisoners found a woman guard particularly offensive, they also overlooked her intelligence, accustomed as they were to treating women as cattle.  The possibility of a woman being intelligent enough to dupe them apparently had not been considered, and, for that reason, they were less guarded around her, more apt to speak freely in their native tongue, not suspecting that she was both intelligent and able to understand their conversations.  

What made her role even more important was that the CIA, the State Department, the Marines, the country, desperately needed combat-trained individuals with such language skills.  

"Colonel?" she heard a voice as she walked away from the H.Q., towards the mess hall.  It was Sgt. Galindez.  

"Gunny, it's good to see you."  She threw aside protocol and gave him a hug.  "Don't salute, I'm trying to be low profile."

"I understand, ma'am," the embarrassed Gunny said, stepping back and appraising her.  "If I may say so, ma'am, you're looking ship shape."

"Thank you Gunny.  You too.  I'm relieved to see you here."

"Well, ma'am.  We Marines go where the action is."

"Damn straight," she replied.  "Walk with me."  She started out towards the mess hall and explained her mission as they walked, knowing she could trust the Gunny with the information, could trust him with her life if necessary.

"So, that's why I'm here," shje said then looked at him again.  "We miss you back at JAG."

"How is everthing there?"  

"About the same," she said.

He raised an eyebrow.  "Permission to speak freely, ma'am."

"Yes, Gunny, of course."

"Did you and Cmdr. Rabb finally figure it out?"

She blushed.  "Were we that obvious?"

"Yes, ma'am, to anyone paying attention."  He smiled slightly.

"And you were?"

"I'm trained to pay attention, ma'am.  Tiner on the other hand wouldn't have a clue," the completely confident Gunnery Sergeant said.  "But, ma'am, I was beginning to think we'd have to lock you two in a closet or something to get you together."

Mac laughed heartily, the best laugh she had had in days.  "Gunny, I wish you would have done just that."


	6. TV Style 6 of 6

Title:  TV Style pt 6 (conclusion)

Author: Navygirl

Rating:  PG-13

Classification: Harm/Mac

Summary:   Includes my speculation on upcoming episodes.

Disclaimers: All characters of JAG belong to Donald Bellasarius and Bellasarius Productions; no copyright infringement intended.

1902 ET

Friday

Gitmo

"Mac," she heard the voice in the darkness, as she sat waiting on the wooden plank, and saw the pen-light flashlight moving in her direction.  Webb walked up beside her and, after glancing around in the darkness, sat down on the edge of the plank.  

"We've got to stop meeting like this, Clay," she said, trying to inject some small amount of humor into the serious situation.

"Yeah, or Rabb might get suspicious."

She slugged him on the shoulder and he grimaced. "Ouch, hey, I'm not one of your Navy or Marine buddies you can use as a punching bag."

"Oh that's right, you're just a sissy from the State Department."

"Yeah, a sissy who has saved Rabb's ass countless times, for which you should be grateful."

"You're assuming facts not in evidence, Clay."

"Oh, hell, I have the evidence, Colonel."

She frowned playfully, which he could barely see in the moonlight. "Well, I'm sure you intend to use it against us as some point."  

"I don't have a thing, but I think you just admitted something, Colonel."

How had she fallen for that?

"Just save me a dance at the wedding, now what have you got for me?" he asked.

Ignorning the "wedding" dig, she got down to business, updating him on the revelations gleaned while guarding Ahmad Nasini.  

"Here is what I know, N and his brother have been passing information back and forth as I've already told you, and they mentioned the mole again, so I hope your people are following up on that, trying to discern who this person is.  As I told you earlier, the mole is well placed."

"Yes, you said someone in the Navy, in D.C.  We've identified that person and are closing the gap.  I'll explain later, but go on."

"It appears there is something being formulated, I'm getting a clearer picture on that, another attack, although the means and methods and other specifics are unclear.  They've discussed training, and it appears to involve moving large vehicles, tanker trucks and such.  It's hard to tell, I only get snippets of information. I did get the distinct impression that someone in the cages has smuggled in a notebook and has shared it with N's brother.  If we can get our hands on that book…And one more thing, from what they say, OBL is definitely in Pakistan."

"That confirms our intelligence from out of Pakistan and Afghanistan. We've been told he's clean shaven now."

"Yes, I did hear that as well," she said.  "N and his brother are speaking freely in front of me.  I'll continue to…"

"No, that won't be necessary.  I'm under 'orders' from the Admiral to send you back home.  We've been able to locate an agent to take over for you here, and the Admiral needs you back to prepare for the upcoming tribunals.  I think he's teaming you with your squid to prosecute, and he and Sturgis are going to defend."

"How do you know that?"

"Colonel, I have my sources." He looked at her with all seriousness, "By the way, tell Rabb to fix the lock on his window."

"Have you and your people been breaking into Harm's apartment?" She looked at him alarmed.

"Would I do that? And, if I did, would I tell you to fix the window?"

"So someone is getting into his apartment?"

Webb explained,  "One of your own. The mole.  We discovered the connection after you gave me the information from N.  We were watching her anyway, but when you told me what N said, it closed a gap.  Who am I talking about you want to ask?  A particularly disagreeable woman in your office.  Do I have to spell it out?"

"Singer?"

"I always knew you were sharp. By the time you get back, she will have been confronted and arrested. She works for the highest bidder, she is a plant, Colonel.  Her Farsi is better than your's."

Mac felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck and let out an audible cry. "My God."

"We think she's actually being paid by Iraq.  They have the money and we've suspected they were making connections with the terrorists, supporting their efforts against us. But, you didn't hear it from me," Webb said, shaking his head.  "Not a word to anyone until she's arrested.  Wait until I call you."

Mac could hardly believe what she was hearing. "She's been in the Navy for years, how is this possible?"

"Don't be so naïve, Colonel."

Mac digested what Webb was saying, then alarms went off as she realized the access Singer had, the intelligence available to her.  "Tell me you've informed the Admiral, Webb," Mac demanded.

"He's been informed.  We've only been certain since  the intell from N, and the Admiral was notified immediately.   We've taken action to deny her access to military secrets. Fortunately her clearance wasn't very high.  But, as soon as she realizes that her access has been terminated, she will no doubt run. We should have her in custody shortly."

"Why did you wait at all?"

"We wanted to see if there are others involved with her."

"You suspected Harm?  Because she went to his apartment, is that it?"

"No, Colonel, her interest in Rabb was of a more prurient nature."

"You mean an obsession?" Mac felt her stomach turn.  Had Singer been sneaking into Rabb's apartment out of a fascination with him?   

"It isn't that, at least I don't think it is.  We think she was looking for a means to blackmail or manipulate one or the both of you."

"But I still don't understand why you've waited to arrest her."  

"We know what we're doing, Mac."

"Oh, yeah, that's a comforting answer," the Colonel said.  "How did you find out about her, I mean narrow it down to her?"

"When N and his brother started talking about the mole last week, we were able to connect the dots, but we've been looking at her for weeks.  Some things in her background didn't add up."

Mac stood up, shaking her head.  "Unbelieveable." She had not had time to take in all of the ramifications of the news.  "Are we done here, then?"

"Yeah, and you can catch the next military transport home, my man Barlow arrives tomorrow."  Webb said standing up and starting to walk away.  "I'll be heading back to D.C. myself.  Tell Rabb hello for me."

0910 ET

Saturday

Harm's Apartment

Well, at least this Saturday he was not nursing a hangover, having spent Friday night helping Sturgis replace his hot water heater.  Harm got out of bed, shook off the cobwebs and hauled a load of wet laundry from the day before out of the washer and tossed it into the dryer, then started the coffee, hoping that perhaps Mac would  get back into town in a few hours.  She had said it was possible when she called the night before.  She also seemed depressed and that worried him.

He closed the kitchen window, uncertain when he had opened it, then looked back at it.  "Getting senile, Rabb," he said to himself. He made a mental note, again, to fix the lock.  It was on his perennial "to do" list.

Paddling over to the front door, he bumped into the coffee table and let out a howl from the pain inflicted on his big toe.  At that moment, he was fairly certain he heard a noise from the bedroom area, but then realized it had to be his jeans thumping in the dryer.  

Outside he heard sirens approaching and wondered if another body had been found in the area.  He just didn't need any doom and gloom today, he wanted to keep a positive frame of mind.  Mac get your six back here before I lose all my marbles, he thought.

Thinking he would get the newspaper, even if he didn't read it, he opened the door, rubbing the stubble on his chin and yawning. His still-sleepy eyes took a moment to focus.

"Mac!" he exclaimed, amazed to find his favorite Marine standing there, a hand raised to knock.  Completely forgetting that he was standing in the doorway in his boxers, he just looked at her, surprised and happy.  

"Hey, I like the way you dress up to see me," she said, amused at his shocked expression.  She dared to size him up, liking all of what she saw.

On impulse, he grabbed her by at the waist with both hands and pulled her towards him, "God I missed you," he said as he planted a kiss on her surprised lips.  "Get in here."

He pulled her inside the door, and then stood there, looking embarrassed.  "Uh, hang on a minute," he said and walked back to his bedroom to get some shorts and a T-shirt.  As he picked up a shirt, he thought he heard something again, but didn't give it much thought, he had other things on his mind.  

He walked back into the living room, still pulling the T-shirt over his head, prompting Mac to laugh. "You don't have to put on a shirt for me,".

"And, what does that mean?"  He cocked an eyebrow.

"You know exactly what it means."  She took several steps toward him, and he just stood there grinning, waiting, arms crossed.  

"We have a lot of catching up to do," she said as she came closer.

"We do indeed."

"Seems like we never get a chance to talk or, or, or anything."  She smiled as she drew closer.  Then she stopped and waited, and he closed the gap between them, taking her face in his hands. 

"Talk is cheap, I'd rather show you what I've been thinking," he said.  But he felt her suddenly stiffen.  He drew back and looked at her, she was frozen in place and said nothing.  "Mac?"

He turned to see a gun pointed directly at him.  "Singer?"

"Yes, Harm, surprise surprise."

"Lt. Singer, put the gun…" Mac said.  

"Shut up, Colonel."  Singer said.  "Or I'll disfigure this fighter jock in ways that will hurt you both, if you get my meaning."

She waived the gun and then pointed it again at Harm.  "Wouldn't want the Commander taken out of commission, I'm sure.  You know, I'm surprised to see you two together, I had just about decided that it was all talk and no action.  Guess I was wrong.  By the way, Commander, you look better with your shirt off."

"Shut up, Singer," Harm said.  "And put down the damn gun, what do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, I know what I'm doing, I have every intention of using one of you as my ticket out of here.  You see, I know that I've come under suspicion, and I intend to get out of the country before it's too late."

"Suspicion of what?"

"Suspicion of espionage," Mac said.  "Working for the highest bidder, right Singer?"

"Of course," the woman answered smugly.  "How else am I going to pay for the townhouse in Greece and the new home in Madrid?" She laughed aloud.  "You two are such a pair of idiots.  Toiling for the government, fighting the so-called good fight.  You'll never have what I have."

"I wouldn't want what you have," Mac said with disdain.  "I'd rather be able to live with myself."

"Just shut up, Mackenzie," Singer said, glaring at Mac. "I was planning on using Rabb to get the computer access I need to make arrangements out of here…"

"You know I'd never cooperate…"  Harm said vehemently.  "I'd die first."

"Whatever," Singer said. "I think I've got a better idea anyway, Commander."  She said with a sneer. Keeping the gun on Harm, she walked towards Mac and pulled her purse away.  "I'll use your I.D. to get what I need."

"That will never work," Harm said, trying to think of a way to distract the woman.

Mac examined the room, formulating a plan, certain Harm was doing the same.

"Don't bet on it, Commander," Singer said and levelled the gun at him.

Mac shouted at her in Farsi.  Singer turned her head and looked at the woman.  "You and what Army?" Singer spat at her.

Harm, surprised that Singer understood Mac, nevertheless had time to act before Singer could react to his sudden movements.  Turning and dropping low, he threw his shoulder into Singer's midriff, and Mac anticipating the move rushed towards her, grabbing her gunhand and forcing it up until the gun was pointed at the ceiling.  Mac knocked the gun free, and all of them fell in a heap to the floor, but Harm quickly pinned Singer, and Mac scurried for the gun.  It was over in seconds, and only moments before the front door flew open.  

"Rabb, here I am saving your ass all over again,"  Webb said stepping inside with two burly men carrying automatic weapons.  

"Nah, Clayton," Harm said, breathless as he got to his feet.  "I don't need you to save me when I've got my own Marine."

Mac dusted herself off and walked over to Harm who took her in his arms. 

"Rabb, you don't know how lucky you are," Webb said.

"Yes, I do," was all he could say in reply as he kissed her forehead.

Webb turned to Mac as the other men hauled the struggling Singer out of the apartment.  "Mac, I owe you for all you've done."

"I didn't do it for you, Webb.  It's my duty," she said. 

"Hang onto this one, Rabb"  Webb said as he left, closing the door behind him, leaving them alone at last.

Harm looked at Mac with a raised eyebrow.  "You know before you arrived, I was thinking about taking a shower.  Want to join me?"  
  


Mac smiled.  "Lead the way."

--End


End file.
